


Addictive

by BitterlySweets



Category: Jreg, The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Gen, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), gay relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterlySweets/pseuds/BitterlySweets
Summary: A left unity fic that will mainly focus on ancom overcoming quis major daddy issues and Tankie helping quem during the process.
Relationships: Authleft/Ancom, Authleft/Post-Left
Comments: 13
Kudos: 115





	1. Derealization.

**Author's Note:**

> The reason why I write ancom as a gay character here is because I headcanon quem to be a demiboy :)

''And don't you dare show up again, you fucking faggot!'', he yelled as he violently pushed the Anarchist outside.

The door harshly shut behind quem, making quem flinch.

Que trembled, quis knees weak.

A shiver wrecked through quem as the icy rain poured down.

What just happened?

Que couldn't quite process it. Que bit quis lower lip at the scene that has just gone down, the pieces of memory slowly forming a whole image. Que was shaking.

Yelling, screaming.

Being hit.

Violence.

Objects being thrown.

At quem.

Quis jaw clenched as que gripped tightly onto quis sleeves.

For what?

Que carelessly slumped back down against the graffitied brick wall behind quem. Que was exhausted. And hurt.

Water began to well in quis eyes.

Que just didn't understand.

What did que do wrong?

Was it quis fault?

Que shuffled, the frigid wind discomforting quem greatly.

That que wasn't straight?

Que frowned as hot, salty tears rolled down quis cheeks, mixing with the rain.

Que shivered.

_Was it?_

Quis lips pursed.

A lightning cracked through the sky, the thunder loudly roaring through the alley, making quem jump.

Que tightly hugged quis legs and buried quis face in them.

Que began to sob noisily, everything crashing down upon quem.

Why?

Why did que even think they'd support quem?

Que felt like such a fool.

For assuming they'd love quem unconditionally.

For believing they'd actually care and support quem.

Que sniffled and tried wiping some of the wetness off of quis face, to no prevail. The rain and tears just kept on flowing.

Que let out a muffled squeak as another sob shook through the entirety of quis fragile body.

Que choked out a whine, quis throat feeling hoarse.

Where would que go now?

Quis gaze shifted up to the dark night sky, the cold droplets trickling down.

Quis mind travelled, going down a long, rocky path of self judgement and guilt.

Maybe if que fixed quemself they'd love quem again.

Just like they tried to ''repair'' quem back then.

Although they did not succeed with their methods, maybe..They would work, somehow.

If que just tried hard enough.

Que should look into it at least.

Maybe they just were not the right drugs back then.

Quis muscles tensed as the scenes que had tried to surpress for so long began washing up again.

They tried by giving quem LSD at some sort of conversion therapy back when que was 12 shortly after que confessed to them que was gay.

They tried to beat the homosexuality out of quem with a belt, tried to abuse quem to the point where que would confirm que was actually straight and not some goddamn fag.

Initially que fought against their stupid methods, mainly to preserve quis dignity and pride, but at some point que just broke.

Que couldn't take it anymore, que gave in and started dating a girl from the school que went to who que knew had a crush on quem.

Que didn't even love her back.

Que just needed to prove que was not a queer to quis parents.

And, to quis surprise, it actually worked.

They believed quem, and finally saw quem as worthy having. When que broke up with her a year later que simply explained she had cheated on quem.

They also bought that.

Ever since que hid quis identity and preferences for a long time, and up until today que just couldn't stand lying to them anymore.

Que took all quis strength together and confessed que was still gay despite everything, and even went as far as to admit que had been in love with one man in particular at some point.

Well, quis father was displeased to say the least.

Que remembered the disappointed look in quis mother's hazel eyes as que spoke the words she hoped she'd never hear quem say.

She didn't intervene as quis father then proceeded to hit and kick the ever-living hell out of quem.

Que hiccuped as quis lower lip quivered, more warm, pearly tears forming in the corner of quis eyes and continuing to rush down quis face. Quis bruises felt like they were on fire.

Que repeatedly banged quis head against the wall, ignoring the stinging pain.

Que was such an idiot.

Que was so so fucking stupid.

Que probably deserved it anyway.

What even managed to convince quem they would want a son that was some useless and disgusting homo?

Quem hating quemself was really only justified at this point.

Que inhaled sharply as que unsteadily tried lifting quemself off the ground, using the stairs' iron bars as support. Quis drenched hoodie tightly clung to quis skin, rubbing in on quis wounds and soaking with blood.

Que hissed at the seemingly burning pain as que carefully made quis way down the slickened stairs, every movement feeling like they tore quis injuries further in. Que trotted through the alley and kicked a small metal can out of quis path.

Rubbing quis arms in an attempt to save some warmth que slowly paced towards to the busy street, the cacophonic honking and screeching from the vehicles engulfing quem.

Quis vision blurred, the shops and billboards' rather aggressive neon lights distorting into a wild and unpleasant palette, the surroundings being painted over in a Van Gogh like fashion, colours clashing and fading in- and out, contorting with quis mourn.

Everything began to become bizarre and unreal.

This wasn't actually happening now, was it?

It felt like a dream, no, a nightmare, the entirety of the world around quem seemingly collapsing down over quem.

It was like the weight of a thousand mistakes, of a thousand regrets pulled at quem, tearing quem down into a pitch black abyss of melancholy and sorrow, shards of traumatic memories and guilt cutting through quis flesh and heart, ripping into quis essence, quis persona.

Time seemed like it was decelerating with every breath que took. Quis eyes followed the flashy cars passing by, quis focus and unstable attachment to reality rapidly drifting away with them.

Maybe Tankie-

no.

Que shook quis head.

He wouldn't care. Shouldn't.

It had been too long of quem being distant.

Que had been ignoring his messages ever since the incident, every call and every attempt he had made of reaching out to quem had been left rejected. He seemed so desperate about getting quem back, but at some certain point he seemingly just gave up after que had not responded to him in over two weeks.

Que just abandoned him after the incident. How justified that was is definitely debatable, but que really felt it had been.

At least back then.

Que already somewhat came to terms with quemself that maybe, just maybe it also was partially quis responsibility, and that que also carried at least some bit of fault.

Que inhaled the polluted air, the toxic smell of gasses and car exhaust stinging in quis nose.

Que let out a dry cough and fished out quis phone out of quis hoodie's pocket. Que unlocked it and hesitantly began scrolling through the saved contacts.

Quis finger hovered over Tankie's.

Que contemplated.

Que should give it a shot.

Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to forgive quem.

Hell, if que was being honest with quemself que didn't even expect him or need him to forgive quem.

Que really just needed shelter, and for some reason it was Tankie que felt que could only trust in times like these.

Even after everything that had happened.

Que considered. Que could just reach out to Ancap instead.

But..

..Was he really reliant?

As a businessman, of course, but as a _friend?_

Though, que recalled, que didn't even used have too much of a connection to him except dealing substances with him every now and then and being thigh-high in debt for not repaying.

Could that even be considered a friendship or was que just becoming desperate, clinging to anything remotely resembling a somewhat positive social contact?

Que did try becoming an ally of his, but que felt as if every situation was only a transaction to him, that que was just another customer in a meeting and that any form of kindness he showed was only a commodity as well to make sure every drug deal with quem went smoothly.

Que huffed out of disgust as que remembered his slimy and utterly deceitful visage.

Whatever.

Que hesitated for a few more seconds and reluctantly pressed call. The phone dialed for a solid 30 seconds that felt like a whole hour to quem until Tankie finally picked up.

Que felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked out of quem.

They had not talked in so long.

Que snapped after some oxygen as quis heart began to race, anxiety rushing through quis blood.

''Ancom?'', Tankie spoke up from the other end of the line. Quis breath hitched.

Que didn't even realize how much que had missed hearing his deep, smooth voice up until now. Que in- and exhaled slowly- trying to still quis racing heartbeat as que attempted to somehow form a logically structured sentence in quis mind.

''-Uh, Hello?'', he interrupted quis myriad of thoughts.

''A-ah uhm..Hello..'', que sputtered out, quis tone not masking any insecurity or nervousness.

''Why..Why did you call me?'', he asked, sounding rather confused, though que felt que was being judged by him for hitting him up so randomly and out of the nowhere.

''I..'', que paused, ''I-I need to stay somewhere.'', que shyly mumbled into the speaker.

Tankie went silent on the other end.

Que already felt like que had fucked this up.

''Why?''

Que repetitively tapped quis fingers against the green phone case, becoming even more uneasy with every passing millisecond.

Que really did not know how to explain to him that quis family had just kicked quem out and that que couldn't go back because they didn't accept quem for quis identity.

Tankie probably wouldn't even understand that, would he?

For him the only valid form of oppression is the one against workers, after all. He would just shrug it off, most likely.

''-Actually, it doesn't matter.'', he responded to quis lasting silence.

''You..I guess you can stay at apartment in my rooms. For short while.'', Tankie cleared his throat, ''though I am still living under the capitalist's roof, so I am not sure how he will react to you living with us again without new contract for you.'', he attempted to explain through broken English.

Ancom was surprised at Tankie actually accepting- or well, giving the offer of letting quem live with the others again, and in his rented quarter even.  
Que initially assumed he would just immediately hang up or shout at quem for having the audacity and such a large sense of entitlement.

Though que wasn't too sure how Tankie could confirm that que was allowed to stay, considering the apartment didn't even belong to him in the first place.

Que initially thought Tankie had his own seperate apartment or something and only stayed at Ancap's place for the sake of the centricide.

Apparently not.

''Well..Okay..uhm...'', que impatiently chewed on quis lower lip, ''That's..Fair..''

''I could pick you up. Where are you?'', Tankie asked, somewhat eagerly.

''At my parents house, you know where that is, right..?'', que muttered, unsure.

''Da. I do.''

''Well, I'm near that one bus station, I guess just...I'll just stay there until you arrive.''

Wait, with what vehicle would he come though? Didn't he sell his car due to bills or something?

Que rose a brow, but decided not to question it.

''Great!- I mean, uh'', he cut himself off awkwardly, ''That's good. I'll be there in ten minutes.''

And with that que hung up.

Que stuffed quis phone back into the pocket and quis gaze wandered over the asphalt and up to bus station. Que slowly dragged quemself over, quis body feeling overly sensitive and as fragile as glass.

Que collapsed onto the bench and closed quis eyes for a short while, trying to find some peace in this hectic mess, shutting out quis surroundings.

Quis fingers dug into quis thighs as negative flashbacks began plaguing quem again.

Quis parents used to treat quem well up until que tried to discover quemself. Que used to be a very joyful child, at least according to other relatives who sometimes talked about how they experienced quem, and how they noticed quis change. They just assumed it was part of growing up, part of becoming adult.

Que doesn't blame them for that, after all they did not know what went down behind the curtains of deception. Que was too afraid to open up to anyone about quis orientation ever since quis parent's reaction, and thus also kept on being completely silent about having been forced to take drugs, and hell, even went as far as to deny that que had ever went to conversion therapy at all to anybody that noticed the black and blue spots covering quem, or quis paling and dry skin from the heroin the pastor had been shooting up quis veins every time he visited.

Que felt like through addressing what had been going down que would admit to being a perverted deviant.

A homosexual.

Did que ever even learn to experience happiness- or any sort of positive emotion outside of high induced serotonin- and endorphine releases?

Que didn't even know anymore.

Que felt like que was unable to trust anyone at this point, always forced to be on edge, scared of having to go through this hell ever again.

Que could hear a muffled voice call out quis name, but que did not want to listen. Not now, que was too tired.

Heavy footsteps approaching quem at a fast pace, almost shaking the ground with their intensity.

Que tiredly opened an eye and let out a high pitched squeak of surprise. Tankie sharply halted in front of quem, out of air.

''A...Anar..'', he cut off, ''..Kitty.''


	2. Chapter 2

The Anarchist tensed out of shock as the way too quickly arrived Tankie hastily gasped after air, his warm exhale hitting quis face with a lingering scent of alcohol.

Ancom felt an acidic taste spread in quis mouth, desperately wanting to dodge the awfully familiar smell that reminded quem too much of quis own situation at home.

Skittishly shifting from side to side on the bench, quis eyes fleetingly roamed the statist's frame, not bothering to stop and examine any peculiarities; though, que did notice his unwashed, tangled brunette curls peeking out from underneath the ushanka, soaked in both rain and melting snowflakes or his almost unnaturally crimson lips, torn and dried up from this year's especially rough and biting winter temperatures.

He let out a raspy cough and very swiftly, though a bit clumsily, dusted off his own leathery trenchcoat and straightened his position in an almost hilariously militant manner.

His, to ancom all too recognizable authoritarian demeanor began radiantly shining through again and upon quem, despite the communist's obvious exhaustion after the sprint.

It reminded quem of whenever they used to debate. He would tower above quem tall and proud, always having a counter argument in place. As if he studied every single one of Marx' writings word by word and was just citing them to quem, showing quem the mirror to quis own revisionism in quis beliefs. Que would then begin ranting about Kronstadt, him then just shaking his head and sighing, clearly having been disappointed once again by the little Anarchist and quis, to quem personally very reasonable, disregard of the Bolsheviks.

Que dragged quis attention back to the broad Russian.

Anarchist bashfully sunk in on quemself, both intimidated and almost in awe at the Totalitarian looming over quis comparably petite form. His caramel brown eyes were directly locked with quis as que tried awkwardly scrambling out of his view like some bug flipped onto it's back, it's vulnerable and unshielded stomach exposed openly.

Que uneasily tugged quis sleeves over quis unhealthily colourless and bruised wrists, flinching back as que noticed the dark maroon stains sogging the fabric, the contrasting green making the spots stand out even more obviously.

Quis head lifted a little and que froze. Tankie had been staring right at quem.

Did he..Did he see them?

Fuck.

The way he stared it felt like he was directly piercing deep into quis soul like a precise arrow; tearing down the thin but many layers, which que hid every dark and profound secret behind and never wanting to unravel them for the sake of quis own sanity and protection.

Quis heart skipped a hard beat and que subtly shuffled the pale limbs into quis hoodie's pockets, praying he didn't actually take notice.

''Let us go, shall we?'', Tankie spoke up, an unexpected softness in his tone.

This usually would've soothed the Anarchist; if the current situation had been different and not one where que only hit him up for shelter que very urgently needed, or if they had not seen one another in over a month.

He usually would quietly mumble to quem in this tone while slowly petting quem as he sat on the couch, the former Ancom curled up in his lap. He'd then carefully run his fingers through quis uncombed hair while que had been higher than any satellites or dogs the soviets used to send into space, quem hugging him more tightly while incoherently slurring his name over and over while bright colours and stars hysterically danced through the air. Que then would be reaching up to him, their faces only centimeters away...So near yet so far as he leaned in more,

''Anco- Anarchist?''

But now, the only thing skyrocketing had been quis fear.

Que blinked a few times out of surprise and processed, then quickly nodded and set up a forced grin, trying to lock away any sorts of negativity behind it.

''A-ah! Yes, of course!'', The significantly shorter man chirped with false enthusiasm in a screechy pitch, quis heartrate picking up in speed rapidly.

His lips twitched a bit and up into a stiff smile as he extended a hand out for the Anarchist to take, seeming a lot less confident in his own actions than what his aura initially led quem to believe.

Que very hesitantly grabbed it, feeling extremely jittery all over.

Regret instantly shot through quem as quis body realized how cold Tankie's hand had been.

Quis mind strongly urged quem to pull back, not only due to how freezing he was but also because que saw how dangerously on-display the injuries were.

But que restrained quemself as que shuddered.

The Communist pulled quem up from the bench, a bit too forcefully, which caused quem to squeak out a small wince.

He gingerly squeezed quis hand and que went rigid in response. Que uneasily wavered back and forth in quis place, quis mouth pursed.

Tankie's appearance, despite quem being the one to have initiated the contact again, made quem feel like a stray cat, a wild creature fully exposed in a car's incandescent headlights.

Slowly but safely nipping away at the opaque shadows que usually hid and found comfort in with the darkness always caressing quem like a mother would with a lost child that randomly found its way into her arms, fleeing from an unimaginably great threat unknown to anybody except the kid.

Que seriously just wanted to jump the fence right then and there.

Just get the fuck away from him.

What managed to make quem believe it to be a decent idea to ask him again, exactly?

Well, que really could not complain here though, after all he _did_ arrive.

Going silent, his amber orbs observed quem carefully, trailing from quis face down to quis form which was as if rooted miles deep into the ground, quis angst fixing quem in place.

He began scrutinizing any detail que involuntarily exposed to him. His stare seemed to bore right through the fabric covering quis skin, the gashes flaring up again in response to quem remembering their existence.

Que abashedly squirmed and pulled up quis shoulders as he very intently espied quis reaction. He looked back up at quem again, his intensely stern eyes causing icy chills to run through quis entire body.

Que tried retrieving quis hand but he held on to it with a painfully strong grip.

What the fuck was his problem?

Ancom felt impatience mixed with tiny, hot sparks of rage fluttering up inside quis chest.

''Why are you looking at me like that?-'',

He squeezed quis hand again, harder.

''What happened?'', He completely disregarded quis question, his tone sharper than any Jacobiner's guillotine's blade.

The young, small flame of fury that had begun spreading inside of quis ribcage was now quickly and precisely trampled out by him.

No.

No, he _definitely_ could not know this. 

He would ridicule quem, holler and laugh at quem for how much of a pussy que truly was.

Que opened quis mouth but not one syllable found it's way out.

Quis vocal chords and every word que oh-so-desperately wanted to cry out were securely shut away by the own, self knitted rope of vanity and shame que had tightly fastened around quis neck.

Que just dumbly gawked back at him, quis view indecisively switching between his frosty, brash glare and his lips, pulled down into a frustrated frown.

Just managing to stifle out a weak whimper, tiny, silvery tears began forming again, stinging like tiny pinpricks in quis eyes.

The Stalinist's expression hardened, the pressure on quis palm increasing to a point where que felt he would cause a bone to snap any second.

Tankie bursted out, startling quem, his voice barking and trembling with anger,

''Who did this?!''

Que was staring right back at him, wide-eyed and completely silent.

A numbness poured through quem, quis rigid limbs hanging down from quem like hard, heavy steel.

''Answer me!'', He commanded, his russian accent vibrating with his wrath and right through quem.

Que continued to say absolutely nothing.

The increasing density of water in quis eyes made quem feel like some bathtub filling right up to the brim with scorching saltwater, threatening to spill.

Que harshly bit down on quis tongue, enough for quem to scrunch up quis nose out of light disgust as que tasted the metallic flavour of blood. 

Tankie's grasp loosened a bit and Anarchist quickly pulled quis hand back.

The scowl on his face faded a little and he gave quem a sad but sympathetic smile, and although it seemed unexpectedly genuine, it still was very likely only a deception to lure the cat out of the cave and reveal everything he wanted to know. 

Que really couldn't tell him.

It was obvious que would ruin all quis chances of having a roof over quis head for at least the rest of this night if que now whined and bitched to him about the events that had forcefully and violently shaped quem this way, both emotionally and physically. **  
**

Que _really_ did not want to be homeless. 

_Not again._

Que had been for around a month after his father lashed out at quem again for being a fag and que really couldn't even imagine going through the same shit for another time.

Staying with the statist in this case seemed like a much preferable option.

At least in comparison to going back to having to rummage through trashcans, having to beg for clean water or food to a bunch of snobs who then would just respond aggressively and repulsed by quem and proceed to bash on quem for quis lower status.

They'd sneer at quem for even having the sheer audacity to come approach them, these higher, much much superior, majestic celestials and quem, the little useless brat; in a slutty mini skirt and a dirty, unwashed hoodie, looking like some crack addict whose only purpose in life consisted of tripping on three different drugs simultaneously in the nearest city parking lot and then fleeing from private police coming for his ass.

..Que had been in situations like these at some point, que had to admit. Multiple times actually.

But at the same time que did not want to deny him what he wanted, hell, what he deserved to know. After all he had been the one to come for quem in the middle of the fucking night during a thunderstorm.

And yet..

..Que did not owe him _anything_.

 _He_ owed _quem_ actually, for having been such a complete dick to quem, having mistreated, exploited and manipulated quem.

Quis eyes squinted and locked with Tankie's, quis fists clenching.

''No.'', Que quietly hissed through quis teeth, the words coming out a lot more sour than intended. Que rubbed quis wrists, trying to scrape off the red marks Tankie had left **.  
**

Que now remembered why que left that Bastard in the first place.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the abrupt ending, I am a bit (very) garbage at cliffhangers.


End file.
